Love is a Promise
by Kate Beckett's Golden Snitch
Summary: A collection of Danny and Clara oneshots. Accepting requests now, DM me if you have one!
1. Chapter 1

Hey all! I need some writing inspiration for one shots for Danny/Clara because I'm too full of emotions right now. I'll write pretty much everything except smut (and I have a particular love for angst!). Please please PLEASE leave requests in the reviews or PM me and I'll try to get yours done as soon as possible!

xoxo,

-J


	2. Warm

**AN: Wow, guys, thank you all so much for the amazing response! Thank you all for the wonderful prompts, I'm looking forward to writing them! **

Warm

_cclarasdoctor:_

_My feels have been absolutely destroyed by Death in Heaven. Could you write something like a sick!fic, or just some h/c between the two? I need it ._

Danny Pink has always been able to see through lies.

He hates them. He hates hearing words coming from people that are blatantly pretending to be someone they're not. He hates when someone fibs to protect their pride, as if life is a fickle thing that can be manipulated as one chooses. So he's learned the difference, the slight details that only a master of lying could barely conceal. He's had enough lying in his time, and the last thing he wants is to be played like a fool.

Besides, Clara's a rubbish liar anyways.

He sees it when she walks into the staff room. Well, stumbles. Clara never stumbles, not even when wearing the highest of heels. But she stumbles, and although she covers it up meticulously well, he notices.

And she's pale. Her entire face's bathed in an off white pallor, and her familiar rose shaded cheeks are absent.

He walks up to her, and she smiles, pulling off her jacket. It's not her smile, though. Her smile makes him melt, makes him fall in love with her a little bit more every time. This one's forced, no dimples in sight, and it's definitely not like Clara to force a smile.

"Good morning, Mr. Pink." He smiles back, hiding his slight concern.

"Good morning, Ms. Oswald." He blinks, and his eyebrows scrunch together slightly. "Are you alright?"

"Perfectly fine." She looks away while answering, and he knows, right then and there, that she's lying. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Clara, seriously." Danny leans forwards, so close that his lips almost brush her her nose. "You don't look good." She raises an eyebrow and purses her lips, and he immediately wants to smack himself for his lack of tact.

"Lovely." She responds, voice cold. "Thank you, Mr. Pink." And she leaves the staff room before he can ever muster an explanation.

She stumbles again just before she goes through the doorway and he sighs, running a hand through his short hair. Irritated Clara combined with Sick Clara did not have a bright aspect.

:-:-:-:-:-:

The next time Danny sees her, she's sitting in her classroom during break, eyes closed, index and middle finger massaging her temple continuously. She looks absolutely exhausted, and visible beads of sweat are running down her possibly-lighter-then-before face.

She's obviously ill now, and quite frankly, he's surprised that no one's seemed to notice.

"Clara?" He knocks lightly on the doorframe, and she turns in her chair, opening her eyes.

"Danny." Her reply is stifled by a cough, and she covers her mouth with her hand. Which is shaking.

He moves to stand next to her, his hand pressing to her forehead for only a second before pulling it away.

"You're warm, Clara." He says, concern growing. "You're really warm."

"I'm fine." She's so, so not. He can see it in her eyes. He places his hand back on her forehead and begins to smooth her hair, in, what seems to him, a calming manner.

"You should go home." Clara pulls away slightly and then a sharp intake of breath, obviously the evidence of pain, is the final sign. "I can drive you. My next block's a break." She doesn't respond, just closes her eyes and leans against the back of her chair. He puts one hand on hers and the other in the small of her back and helps her get up. "Come on, Clara."

:-:-:-:-:-:

It's a good thing he gets her home when she does, because nearly as soon as they step across the premises, she's running to the bathroom.

He really, really doesn't like vomit. But he loves Clara.

He holds her hair out of her face until she's stopped retching, and retrieves a glass of water for her when she's done. She's still shivering and utterly pale as he kneels beside her, placing a hand underneath her chin.

"Any better?" She only slightly nods, leaning back against the edge of the bathtub.

"God, Danny, I'm so sorry." Her words are nearly a croak, and he can't help but muster a small smile. "You don't need to be here, to see this."

"You have nothing to be sorry about." He replies, and holds out his hands to help her to her feet. She stands back up shakily, and is heavily relying on his arm to keep her stable. "I love you, okay? Even this part of you. And I want to help." He presses a kiss to the top of her head, and she smiles, then grimaces, closing her eyes.

"I just have a bloody awful headache." She says, sounding frustrated and placing a hand back on her temple.

"You need rest, Clara." His words are soft, tender, as he begins to walk her towards her bedroom. "I can get you a headache tablet, if you want, but rest should work well right now." She nods, and they continues towards her room, his arms almost protectively supporting her as she moves.

He doesn't want her to fall.

:-:-:-:-:-:

She wakes up in her own bed, tucked in tightly. For a moment, she completely forgets how she got there, and then the memories come flooding back in a way that only makes her slight headache worsen.

Danny. Her wonderful, sweet Danny, taking her home and bringing her water after she's thrown up and helping her into bed.

And he's here now, sitting beside her with a half-empty mug of tea in his hand. His eyes brighten when he sees that she's awake, and immediately he's feeling her forehead for fever.

"Just a bit warm." He sounds so relieved that she can't even begin to imagine how worried he'd been. "How're you feeling?"

"Better." She replies, adjusting the pillows behind her so that she's nearly sitting. "A lot better, actually."

"Brilliant." He smiles. "I've sent more then a few children home with the flu this week, and they've been ill for days. Maybe you've been lucky and avoided it somehow."

"Maybe." There's so much she wants to say to him. "Or maybe I just have a very good caretaker." His smile grows at that, and he places his hand on top of hers tenderly. Her lips curl upwards, and then fall instantly as her headache worsens. She bites her lip, trying not to make a sound, but he's noticed and his smile has been completely wiped off his face as well.

"You're still not well." It's a statement, not a question, but she still feels obligated to nod. "Do you feel like you're going to be ill again?" She shakes her head at this, and shuts her eyes, trying to numb the pain. She hates this. She really despises being in a situation where she can't even care for herself.

"Hey, Clara, look at me." His voice, his caring, worried voice, cause her to open her eyes, and now he's straight across from her, head inches from hers. His hand moves forward and wipes his thumb over her cheek. "Don't cry, okay? Does it hurt that badly?"

She's crying?

Lifting a hand to her cheek, she can clearly feel the telltale liquid running down her face. She has completely lost control of her emotions, which, from the past, is a definite symptom of her being sick.

"No." Clara replies, rapidly wiping her tears away and trying so, so hard to ignore the pain in her head. "I don't know why I'm crying, honestly. Whenever I'm sick-"

"-Your emotions are completely insane." He finishes for her, and pulls her into his chest. He's lovely and warm, and she can feel the ripple of muscle lying underneath his button down.

"I'm going to get you sick." He shushes her and his arms tighten around her shoulders. She closes her eyes once again and lets the throbbing pain of her head wash over her. Somehow, it doesn't seem as bad when she's in Danny's arms.

:-:-:-:-:-:

She's asleep in just a minute, he can tell. Her small, warm body is presses against his and her head is slumped gently onto his shoulder. His hand absentmindedly rubs up and down her arm, as if he's trying to soothe her from her pain.

She looks so small when she's ill. Granted, she looks small everyday, but usually she has the fiery, unexpected personality that he loves to make up for it. But now, with her in his arms, all he sees is a helpless, sickly little girl.

God, she would smack him so hard if he ever told her that.

:-:-:-:-:-:

He decides to stay overnight at her flat when she hasn't woken up by eight, and it proves to be a banner idea when her fever spikes in the middle of the night.

He's sitting beside her bed when suddenly, she's restless, squirming and kicking her way out of the duvet. Her breath is coming in short, quick pants, and her face is covered in beads of sweat.

He's beside her in a heartbeat, back of his hand resting on her forehead. She's burning up, no doubt about it. And as much as he hates to, he has to wake her up.

"Clara?" His voice is soft, and he begins running his hand through the crown of her hair. She stirs, eyes opening very slightly, and immediately he sees that they're glazed over with fever. Oh, Clara. "Come on, darling. You need to wake up for me." She blinks again, this time opening her eyes to their complete, wide capacity. He forces a smile, still stroking her hair in comfort. "There we are. Your fever's gone up, Clara. I'm going to try and break it, alright?" She nods, and he sees her eyes growing frightened. She's scared, he realizes. More then he is. So he kisses her forehead gently and then nearly jogs to the bathroom.

He returns in a second with a cool, wet washcloth in hand, and he sits on the bed next to her, beginning to caress her face with the cloth. She relaxes almost instantly, leaning back into her pillows and exhaling. He doesn't stop to wonder how she became so ill so quickly. Stress and over exhaustion could spike a fever rather quickly.

After he's done, she's nearly asleep again, her fingers resting in his palm. She's definitely not as warm as before, and he exhales in relief. He's seen much too many people pass away from ignored fevers, from his time in the army. And it hurts him, physically hurts him, to see her suffer.

But she's alright now. The worst's past, he's sure of it. Now maybe both he and Clara can relax.

:-:-:-:-:-:

When he enters her room the next morning clutching two mugs of tea, she's just stirring awake, blinking and letting her eyes adjust to the sun pouring through her window. He walks and sits on the corner of the bed, pleased to see the natural blush of her cheeks has returned. She rolls over to face him and smiles, placing her head against his thigh.

"Hey." Her voice is soft, and he smiles, too.

"Hey." He responds, holding a mug out for her. She takes it and leans back against the headboard. "You look better."

"I'm feeling better." She takes a sip and lets it swish in her mouth for a moment before swallowing. He reaches up to feel her forehead, a motion that seems as though it's become reflex in the past day. "My fever's gone, I think."

"Your thinking's right." He lets his hand linger on her forehead, recalling the night previous. "You were so sick last night, Clara." She blushes at that, looking down into her tea.

"I know. I'm sorry." She's apologizing for being ill, and it almost makes him want to laugh.

"You have nothing to apologize for." He leans over and puts an arm around her shoulder. She shifts, so she can be reclining against his chest, and sighs. "Sometimes you need someone to look after you."

"Thank you." Her words make every worry worth it. "Thank you for taking care of me, Danny. I really don't know what I would have done without you."

"Always." He replies, pressing a kiss to her cheek. Her smile grows, and she looks back up at him.

This time, it's a real, genuine Clara smile.

This time, it's no lie.

**AN: So this is way longer then I planned for, and it's an awful cheesy ending, but you have to begin somewhere, right? **

**Reviews would be absolutely wonderful and of course you can always submit prompts to me via reviews or PM.**

**Hope you all enjoyed and are beginning to recover from Death In Heaven (I know that I'm not),**

**xoxo, **

**J**


	3. Shut Up

**AN: So I totally don't own any of the first dialogue, but I needed to put it in because boy, do I wish that conversation had ended differently (or maybe like this).**

Shut Up

_SaveMeCleverBoy:_

_Could you do one were Clara tells Danny she's pregnant since it's rumoured that that's what she wanted to tell him during the phone call in Dark Water?_

She stares at the notes cluttering her bookshelves and crosses her arms. The notes seem to stare back at her, and her eyes flit from one to the next to the next.

Vastra.

Rupert Pink.

Rob the bank.

Half-Face Man.

Courtney on the moon.

Lying. Truth.

Three months.

Just say it.

She's trying to fit all the puzzle pieces together into a picture that seems to be unending. But she has enough information. At least for now.

She reaches for her phone and dials his number with shaking fingers. As it rings, almost methodically, she feels the fear, absolute terror, spreading through her chest like wildfire. She can't do this. Not here, not now, not ever. She can't do this.

No, Clara Oswald. Get yourself together.

"Clara!" His voice suddenly on the other line almost pushes her over the edge, and she shuts her eyes tightly, trying to block out the panic that seems to be blurring her vision.

"Shut up." Oh, well done. Excellent way to start off this conversation. She hears him laugh for a second before answering.

"Is that how we communicate now?" He is not making this any easier.

"Shut up. Shut up. Shut up." She turns away from the shelf and shuts her eyes tightly. "I need to talk to you."

"Alright, well, I'll be there in a couple of minutes, so-"

"No, not while you're in the room." She sounds absolutely ridiculous now. God, why can't she just have a normal conversation?

"Oh, stupid me." His voice is amused, and she can tell he's smiling just by his tone. "The very idea."

"Shut up!"

"Okay..."

"Stay and shut up."

"Okay." This time she can hear the laugh at the beginning of his word.

"Things to say." She can't seem to even form a proper sentence. "Not all of them good."

"Wouldn't it be better if I was actually there?" Oh, him and his common sense. She's barely able to hold it together anymore.

"Oh Danny, everything's better when you're here, but maybe," She turns back around, placing a hand on her hip and concentrating on the notes. "Maybe not this. Okay." She moves closer, eyes rapidly moving from note to note. There's so, so much information, so much to explain. It's impossible to know where to begin. "Okay. Before all of that, before all of the stuff that I did wrong," She pulls down the one note that pertains to so many things. The one that has 'just say it' scribbled messily on the center.

She clutches it like a lifeline.

"I love you."

"I love you!" The emphasis's on the last word, almost as if he's trying to prove something. Exactly what she doesn't need.

"No, not like that. Not like it's automatic. Not like it's the end of the phone call, the sign of a pat on the back."

"Clara." Now he thinks she sounds ridiculous as well. Brilliant.

"Danny, I will never say those words again. Not to anyone else, ever." Her eyebrows furrow together. "Those words, from me, are yours now."

There's silence for a moment on the end of the line, and when he responds, he's genuinely worried. "Clara, are you alright?"

"Mmhm." But his concern's tweaked something in her, and she can feel tears starting to pool in the corners of her eyes.

"What's going on?" She takes a deep breath and then exhales, shutting her eyes. She clutching the note in her hand so fiercely that it's been reduced to a crumpled ball, but it's message is still radiating through her.

Just say it.

"Danny?" Her voice sounds so small, yet so full of emotion, and she has to take another gulp of air before continuing. "I'm pregnant."

The silence on the other end lasts longer this time, and she places a hand over her mouth, tears that were collecting a second before now flowing down her cheeks.

She's pregnant. She's really, truly pregnant, and it's just now beginning to really sink in.

"Are you sure?" His response sounds eerily calm, and she tries to get her suddenly erratic breathing back under control.

"Positive." She could almost laugh at the irony of the words relation to the situation.

There's another pause before Danny speaks again.

"I'll be there in a minute."

:-:-:-:-:

He keeps his word.

It's less then a minute when there's a knock on her door. She walks towards it, slow and shaking, and holds the doorknob for seconds before twisting and pulling it.

And there he is.

Her Danny, standing in the doorframe, looking rather lost. No, he looks scared. He looks nearly identical to when she had met him as Rupert, like a terrified little boy.

It's enough to just push her over the edge, right into the pit of hysterics.

He's immediately got her in his arms, pressing her up against his chest. She's crying into his shoulder, tears beginning to soak through his light jacket, and he's murmuring to her, little things about how everything's okay, everything's going to be alright. Even though they both know he has no idea if his words are true.

"I'm sorry, Danny." She hiccups through her words, and he presses a kiss to the too of her head. "I'm so, so sorry."

"Don't apologize." He pulls away and looks into her eyes, and she can see that he's trying so hard not to break apart for her. His hand reaches up and tucks a stray stand of hair behind her ear. "There's nothing to apologize for. This, in no way whatsoever, is your fault, understand me?"

Why is he the sweetest man in the world?

:-:-:-:-:

She explains everything to him, everything that she's written down on the notes and more. She explains how she missed her period and she's never been late in her life and so she took a test and it was positive. She explains how she can't quite pinpoint when it happened, only that she could be anywhere up to three months along. She explains how life traveling with the Doctor can completely muddle up ones sense of timing.

Once she's done explaining everything, she's not surprised to see Danny looking rather stunned.

She is surprised, however, when he asks her a question.

"What do you want to do?" She's completely taken aback. To be honest, she's half expecting him to be completely angry with her, to yell at her for all the mistakes that she's made, for all the ways she's gone wrong.

But instead, he asks her the question, and she has no idea how to answer.

The half startled, half confused look must be obvious on her still tear-stained face, so he leans forward and takes her hands in his.

"Listen, Clara. You don't have to make a decision right now. But I need you to understand one thing." He leans even closer, so close that she can feel his forehead half an inch from hers. "Whatever you decide, I'm behind you every step of the way." And he presses his lips to hers, only for a brief second. Then he pulls away, his thumb soothingly tracing circles in her hand.

Now it's on her.

Abortion's not an option. She would never, ever let that happen, never let someone take away an innocent life because of her mistake.

Then there's adoption. It's a valid option, but as a teacher she's seen firsthand how some older students cope with the fact that their parents gave them up, no matter how loving their adoptive mother and father are. Sometimes it can get really ugly. Besides, she doesn't know if she could just give her baby up.

Which leaves one option.

"Danny?" He raises his eyebrows, creating those adorable wrinkles in his forehead that she absolutely loves. "I think I want to keep the baby."

"You want to keep it?" He repeats what she says, and she's trying so hard to keep her breathing in control. She's going to have a baby, for sure now.

"I can't even imagine doing anything else, Danny." She looks down, towards her still flat abdomen.

God, she's going to be a mother.

He takes a deep breath, and she can see the undertone of panic in his expression beginning to grow. And she can't do anything to reassure him, right now.

She is the one with a human inside her, after all.

"I'm going to be a dad." His voice is the softest she's ever heard it, and she looks back down, this time at their hands. "I'm going to be a dad."

"Yeah." Her voice is nearly softer then hers, and when her eyes travel back up to his, she sees a smile growing on his lips.

"We're going to be parents, Clara." The disbelief in his tone is so raw, and he stands up and moves to sit next to her. "You're really having a baby?"

"Really and truly." Something about him seems to have relaxed, and it makes her just a tiny bit calmer. She leans into his chest and his arms fold around her, and she wishes she could stay there, forever. Just them, there, forever.

But obviously, that can never happen.

"How the hell are we going to have a baby, Danny?" His smile grows, and he looks pointedly towards her stomach.

"Just like that."

"Shut up."

**AN: Once again, not completely satisfied with the ending, but I'm trying really hard on getting the characterization down. Reviews literally inspire me to write faster, by the way. **

**Also, it took me freaking forever to get the entire dialogue from Dark Water down. Jenna Coleman can speak incredibly fast. **

**Hope you all enjoyed, **

**-J**


	4. Back Home

**AN: Enjoy! **

Back Home

_Laura Schiller:_

_Two words: Danny lives._

**(Thank you for all the suggestions, I think I combined one or two and then added my own little spin on it! I hope you like it.)**

Where he is, it's always dark.

The sky never blossoms with color, never shows signs of a coming sunrise. The lights that line every building never turn off, never even dim. There are no stars in the dark, dark sky.

He hates it.

He wants to be back home. Back with Clara. Back into a world where light comes and goes, where he can continue on with normal, everyday things.

But he had to send the boy home instead of himself. He's never forgiven himself for shooting him, and he'd never forgive himself if he didn't give the boy the second chance instead of himself.

He didn't even know his name.

And now, he's here. Trapped in what seems to be a more peaceful version of the Nethersphere, without the odd offices and iPads and whatnot. Sure, he's allowed to wander and do what he likes and really wouldn't be constricted at all if it weren't for the fact that he can't go home.

Some days, he's not quite sure if he's in heaven or hell.

He's seen so many familiar faces, so many shadows of people he's met over the years. He never realized how many people he's lost until now, and it makes his stomach fold into knots. Most of their deaths he's gotten over, let them go. Seeing them again is unsettling, to say the least. But there's one thing, for sure, that hurts so, so much worse that.

He misses Clara. He misses her so much more then anything else, and he wants nothing more then to just see her again. Hear her sweet, sweet voice. Caress her cheek and press his lips to hers. Hold her to him and never, ever let her go.

He's never loved anyone the way he loves her. And the fact that he can never be with her and have a future with her gives him so much pain.

:-:-:-:-:

There's a little garden in the midst of wherever he is, and he finds himself spending most of his time there. It's rather lovely, he has admit, and he can almost smile as he walks by the consistently blooming flowers and under the large willow tree that shades a small bench. Sometimes, he'll sit there for hours without realizing it. Maybe it's because there's no natural light that comes and goes.

One day (or night, he can't tell), he reaches the bench and finds it occupied for the first time. He never sees anyone in the garden, so he's rather surprised to see a woman with a small novel in one hand. Her hair is rather large, bushy with piles of curls on curls, and she has a sweet, yet rather mischievous smile. As he begins to walk closer, her gaze moves up to him.

"Rather dull." She says, closing the book. "How long've you been here?" Her question is incredibly blunt, and he's about to question who she is to ask that when he realizes he doesn't truly know the answer.

"I'm...not sure." He murmurs, moving to sit on the opposite side of the bench. "A while, I guess."

"A while? So've I." Her smile fades slightly, as if she's recalling some painful memory, and then her entire face goes wistful. "I was in love. Were you in love?"

He has no idea who this woman is. But he hasn't really talked to anyone about his past life, as he presumes he would call it. Maybe it'll hurt a little less if he confides in someone. Maybe this woman's actually a gift, from some fate somewhere.

"Yeah, actually. I was." He looks down towards his hands and tries to ignore the hot pain that runs up his chest. "Deeply, madly in love." Now he sounds like some poetic, lovesick freak. Magnificent.

But she doesn't seem to mind. Her smile grows again, and she leans closer toward him.

"Tell me about her." He must look unsure, because she takes his hand and holds it in hers. Her hands are remarkably cold, but so is nearly everything here. "Hearing about love, any love, seems to be what keeps me going here." Her eyes move up, looking into the endless indigo sky.

"She's beautiful." It's the first thing he can think of, and it completely opens the floodgates. "She's a teacher that works at the school I started at only a few months back. She's really smart, and she has a quirky sense of humor. She lied to me, sometimes." He pauses before continuing, swallowing the lump that's suddenly set itself deep in his throat. "She travels with this...man, and he takes her to these amazing places, and she didn't tell me until I caught her. I shouldn't still love her." His breath is ragged. "But I love her, so, so much. I don't think I truly knew what it felt like to be in love before I met her." He's crying now, and he hates crying, but the tears just keep falling. Sometimes, emotions are uncontrollable, especially here.

The woman he's been talking to is quiet now, hasn't spoken a word during his entire spiel. She looks almost as though she's drifted to another world, and if he isn't mistaken, her eyes seem to be watering as well.

"I used to travel with a man. I fell in love with him." She looks right at him, almost as though she's looking right through him. "I bet you would give anything to be back with her." He nods, running his palm across his cheek.

He wants it more then anything in the world.

She pulls something out of her pocket then, something small, square, and electric looking. Beginning to fiddle with it, her curls begin falling in her face. "What's her name, Danny?"

He doesn't even question her knowing his name, doesn't begin to wonder about the question she's asked. And even though he knows it's going to sting, he answers.

"Clara. Clara Oswald." He sees her pause, hears the slight intake of breath, and his heart rate quickens. "What? Did you know her?" She doesn't answer, just continues to push tiny buttons and adjust minuscule switches. Then she's right next to him, strapping it to his wrist.

"This is a vortex manipulator." She says, sounding almost breathless. "You may have just enough time energy from your life before this that it'll be able to track your previous location, and it should be able to take you back."

Take him back? Wait, she can't possibly mean-

"Home?" His voice is barely there, and he can hardly breathe, he can hardly think-

He's got a second chance. A legitimate second chance at going home, going back to normal life.

Back to Clara.

But before he can completely break into a smile, confusion clouds his happy (happy!) thoughts.

"Why me?" To that she smiles an almost saddening smile.

"You make her happy, Danny Pink." She says, enclosing his wrist with both of her hands. "And when she's happy, so is he."

"I don't even know your name!" Her smile grows, and a single tear slips down her cheek.

"You can call me Melody." And then she clicks one final switch, and then he's gone, questions still hanging on the tip of his tongue.

:-:-:-:-:

It takes a second for him to figure out where he is. It's light, which completely disorients him, and then he has a sudden, desperate urge to kiss the ground beneath him.

He's home. He's back on earth, back in his world.

He can hardly breathe, and then the thought explodes through his mind.

He needs to find Clara.

He pulls out his phone, and with shaking fingers, punches in a number. It rings twice, and then the other line's picked up.

"Hello?"

"Yes, hello." He responds, and he feels his palms growing sweaty, more by the minute. "My name is Danny Pink, and I don't know where I am."

:-:-:-:-:

The chair is cold, hard beneath him. He clutches the armrests and exhales, closing his eyes. It's starting to catch up with him, the fact that he was dead, dead and gone only an hour before. And now he's in a police station in the midst of London, very much alive.

He's scared, and he's not sure why. The police, of course, were rather skeptical, and it was only when the DNA analysis came back only minutes ago that they finally began to believe him.

So why is he worried?

Maybe, because the last time he walked the earth was when he was a Cyberman. The very thought terrifies him.

He's thinking about that very thing when he hears her, and his heart jumps to his throat.

"Danny!"

Clara.

He stands, moves towards the hallways, and he's shaking, completely.

"Danny!" Her voice sounds so desperate, so hoarse, and he feels an immense, incredible longing that seems to be tearing through his chest.

Then he turns the corner, and then-

She's there.

She's really there.

She looks paler then he remembers, and her cheekbones are more prominent through her face. He hardly has time to process those facts before she flies towards him and throws herself onto him, holding him tightly. His arms wrap around her tiny frame and she's sobbing, shaking against him.

"My god, Danny." Her voice is completely muffled against his shoulder, and it quakes almost as much as her body is. He can feel her frantic heartbeat, erratic against his chest, and he has to remind himself to breathe.

She leans back and cups his face in both of her hands, her thumbs gently running up and down from his jawline. He's got a chance to look at her properly now, and he sees she is so much thinner, so much gaunter then before he had died. By the looks of things, she hasn't been eating.

What would have happened if he had stayed dead?

Immediately, he brushes the thought from his mind. Whatever could have happened, whatever disaster might have occurred, it won't, now.

"You were dead." Her voice's become soft, even though he can still feel the tremors through her fingers. "You were dead and gone and now you're here." She hiccoughs, her eyebrows furrowing. "How can you be here?"

"I-I dont know." His voice stutters, and he moves his hand, slowly, to rest on Clara's cheek. He never thought he'd feel her skin under him again. He never thought he'd talk to her, cry with her, laugh with her.

He can't say how he feels is completely happiness, but elation is completely playing a part in his emotions.

"I don't know, Clara. I can't figure out quite how-"

"Shut up." He silences and she drops her hands down to hang lazily around his shoulders, like they would do whenever they had had a private moment around the school. "It's not important, Danny. Honestly, I really could care less-" Her face, despite the tears still openly pouring down her cheek, breaks into a smile. "-because you're here." He's nearly shaking, now, with all of the emotion building up inside him like water in a dam. He's really, truly back, by some miracle or fate.

He wastes no time in pressing his lips to hers, and pulls her to him, feeling every bit of her body against his. She tightens her grip around his shoulders and kisses him back just equally.

It's the best, most beautiful kiss Danny's ever experienced.

Then he pulls back, and can't even process the wetness that has begun falling down his face and creating tiny tracks on his cheeks.

"I never thought I'd be able to do that again." His words sound choked, and she almost laughs, brushing a tear away with her thumb.

"Me too." He has to smile at that. "I never thought I'd be able to say 'I love you' again, either."

"I love you, so much, Clara Oswald." He enunciates every sound, and means each one with his entire, beating heart. She pulls herself as close as she can be to him, and has to tilt her chin to look directly into his eyes.

"I love you, too."

**AN: Well, there you are! I hope you enjoyed, this one made me fairly emotional writing which doesn't happen that often. I hope you all caught my little reference to a certain lover of the Doctor's in there somewhere ;).**

**Also, the name for the Doctor Who Christmas episode is 'Last Christmas' and I'm rather terrified for it.**

**Speaking of Christmas, if any of you have any Christmas related prompts, I would love to write some Danny/Clara Christmas fluff or something! Let me know in the reviews or PM me.**

**Reviews are absolutely lovely,**

**xoxo, **

**-J**


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